by Stasia Black
“You fucked over the 12th Streeters,” Francisco says, still giving me that stupid macho glare. “Don’t think we forget that shit.”
I throw my hands up again. “Well, I think you’re getting me back. I lose my newest investment. Again, you get thirty million dollars.” I laugh darkly. As if this hasn’t always been about the money. This dumb shit wants to pretend this has something to do with revenge? Bullshit. He targeted me because of his stupid vendetta, but all he really saw was dollar signs. I won’t point it out because I don’t want to antagonize this little shit. “So are we doing this deal or not? Let me see Scarlet.”
It’s not a request. “Or I walk.” I laugh caustically again. “Or go ahead and your friends can load my body full of bullets and you get your revenge.” I hold my arms out. “What the fuck’s it gonna be?”
It’s not even a goddamn show. Am I a little out of my mind? Maybe so. I’m running on no sleep. If something’s happened to Scarlet, if they hurt her and they aren’t bringing her out because they—
“Here’s your cunt.” Francisco waves at a door at the back of the room.
Scarlet stumbles out, her hair matted and a gag tied around her mouth.
And my heart fucking explodes in my chest.
She’s alive. She’s in one piece.
I pray to God she’s whole. That they didn’t—
I try to run to her, but the fuckers grab me again.
“Not till you pay the bill,” Francisco says.
I don’t look at him or the little fuck with the computer. I can only stare at Scarlet and catalog every inch of her. She’s too far away, but there doesn’t seem to be any new marks other than what I saw in the initial picture. The bruises on her face are a nasty bluish-purple.
Christ, I need her in my arms. I need to hold her and know that she’s real.
“Four-six-one-three-five-five—” I rattle off the numbers of my bank account to Francisco and the young guy typing away at the laptop. Tears pour down Scarlet’s face and each one is a physical pain to me.
Christ, what has she endured the past two days? She must have been so terrified when they grabbed her. This is all my fault. I brought this into her life. It’s because of me that her beautiful face is marked, that she’s had to go through God knows what, that—
“It’s done,” the guy with the laptop says.
Francisco laughs.
“Bring the bitch forward.” He waves toward the man holding Scarlet at the back of the room. “Untie her.”
Francisco’s two big bastards still hold me in place while the other man undoes the ropes at Scarlet’s wrists. She pulls the gag out of her mouth and stumbles forward, right as Francisco starts talking again.
“Have your whore, Benson, but let me tell you a little story first.”
Scarlet’s eyes go wide.
“Shut up,” she says, pausing in the middle of the room.
Francisco laughs harder. “Don’t tell me you actually fell for the mark?” He directs this question toward her.
Scarlet’s silent, just glaring at him.
What’s going on? Why isn’t she coming to me? And why are they talking to each other like this?
“Someone tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Scarlet ignores me. “Where’s Enzo?” she asks Francisco.
Enzo? Her brother? Why would he be here? Did Francisco snatch him up too? But why—
Francisco shrugs. “He’s decided he likes it here. He wants to stick around. We’re going to jump him in next week.”
“Like hell you are.” Scarlet’s eyes flash. “Bring my brother here now.”
Francisco stops laughing and his whole face transforms to absolutely pissed. “Puta, you wanna say that again? You tryin’ to tell me what to do in my own house?”
I don’t know what the hell is happening, but Scarlet doesn’t back down. “Give me my brother and we’ll give up our ten percent of the take. That’s three million in your pocket. Free and clear. Just let us both go.”
Her. Ten. Percent.
I stagger back a step.
She doesn’t even look at me. Her gaze is locked with Francisco. He looks her body up and down. Then he sneers and nods. “Fine.” He looks to one of his other men. “Bring the boy.”
I blink.
But this isn’t a nightmare or a dream.
I know it, no matter how much I wish it was. This is my life. This is the way it always is. Scarlet was always too good to be true.
Because she wasn’t real. It was all a lie.
Of course it was a lie. No one could ever love me. I know that. I know it deeper than I know anything else. But she made me believe—
I choke. I can’t breathe. It’s like an elephant stepped on my chest. I just— I didn’t see it coming.
I watch like I’m underwater. A young man comes into the room. He doesn’t look much like Scarlet. He has Hispanic coloring but she runs over and hugs him hard. Then she starts dragging him toward me. Toward the exit door. They pass me by.
She looks over at me. A glance, full of guilt and sorrow and—
Francisco’s laughing again. Talking to me. I drag my heavy eyes to him and try to focus on his words.
“What? You’re just going to let your whore go? You paid thirty million for her. Might as well get your money’s worth out of the bitch.”
With that, everything seems to speed back up again. Faster than regular life. So fast my vision goes red.
Scarlet, in fact.
I grab her arm and drag her out of that hell hole. Hell. But I’m never leaving hell now, am I? Christ, I’ll be here forever. My chest feels hot and so does my skin. Hot like I could combust at any second.
Scarlet lied.
She was never real.
It was all a lie.
I might be stuck in hell now. But fuck if I’m not dragging her there with me.
“Kennedy, wait,” she says as she stumbles after me. “There’s more to the story. You need to listen to me. My father—”
I jerk to a stop out on the street. I don’t meet her eyes. I look just to the right of her. “I don’t want to hear another word out of your lying fucking mouth.” And then I’m yanking her with me again.
“Hey, you don’t talk that way to my sister!” her brother says, trying to push me off of her.
“Enzo, it’s fine,” she says, using her arm to keep him away from me. I ignore them both and keep dragging her along.
“What the fuck, Scar? Is this him? This is Benson?”
“Kennedy, just listen to me. You don’t understand. My father was Angelo Bianchi. When you—”
I laugh. Perfect. So I wasn’t just any old mark. “You targeted me because I, what? Bought the restaurant your father mismanaged so badly it went into foreclosure? That’s called good business sense. But I suppose you’ve twisted that into some great sense of injustice?”
Scarlet makes a noise of appalled shock and I laugh harder. God, I’m such a fucking idiot. To think that I believe she ever cared for me. She’s been harboring this stupid misunderstanding as some kind of vendetta for years and now it’s cost me everything.
Her brother shoves me, breaking my hold on Scarlet. “I’m going to kill you, motherfucker. You know you ran him out of business. You got your fucking thugs to—”
“Just let it go, Enzo,” Scarlet interrupts, holding him away from me.
I only laugh. “Oh come on, let him take a swing at me. It’s not like I paid thirty million dollars for you or anything.” Then I pause. “Oh wait, I just fucking did.” I grab Scarlet and pull her the last few feet to my car. I jerk open the passenger door and shove her inside.
She sits down with an angry huff, crossing her arms over her chest.
I turn to her fuming brother. “Feel free to come along. It’s not like you have anywhere else to go. Or was she lying about you two being homeless too?”
He glares at me like he wants to kill me. He probably does. He’s tall but skinny. How old did Scarlet tell me he w
as? Did she ever say?
But then, Christ, she barely ever told me anything about herself.
No fucking joke. She didn’t have to do much to get me, hook line and fucking sinker, did she? And I fell like the pathetic goddamned idiot that I am.
I open the front door and Scarlet leans over. “Get in, Enzo.”
Enzo looks pissed but finally yanks open the back door and gets in. Fine with me, either way.
I jump in and don’t wait for either of them to get their seatbelts on. I’m fucking out of here.
* * *
“Try not to steal anything,” I say to Scarlet over my shoulder after pushing open my front door. “I know that’s against your nature. But you’ve cost me enough today.”
“You—”
I cut her off. “Go put on the red dress. The one that makes your tits look good. It’s time to try to help me salvage this deal. Nothing opens checkbooks like having a hot blonde serving drinks at your beck and call.”
“You gonna let him talk to you like that?” Her brother sounds shocked and pissed.
“Just go to my room,” she says. “Up the stairs, go right and it’s the fourth door on your left.”
He looks at her like she’s betrayed him somehow and then he runs up the stairs.
Then Scarlet shakes her head at me like she’s disappointed in me. Disappointed. In me.
The fuck? This fucking woman.
“Make sure to put on some red lipstick, too. Men want to think of those lips making rings around their cocks.”
She makes a disgusted face and then speaks through her teeth. “I’ll do this one thing for you, and then I swear I’ll forget I ever knew your name, Kennedy Benson.” She turns on her heel, flinging her blonde hair in my face. Even after three days in that hellhole, it still smells like coconut.
And fuck if it doesn’t make my dick twitch. Not just that, but something in my chest tugs, too.
“Motherfucker!” I kick my trashcan and send it flying across the room. Then I head to my own room. I go to my secondary closet—the one that actually has clothes in it—and drag out a suit to put on after my shower.
Once I get under the shower spray, damn it, but fuck if I don’t hate-masturbate to the remembered smell of her hair and the way it felt having her body so close again.
Chapter 19
SCARLET
In my bedroom, I look in the mirror as I finish applying the reddest of red lipsticks I own. I make an O with my lips and then check my teeth. Perfect.
I pull back and examine my entire reflection. I do look perfect. With enough expertly applied concealer and foundation to smooth the overall look, my black eye is barely visible. I look pretty and fresh and, with the red dress and lipstick, seductive if I hold my body just so. I pop my hip out and make come-hither eyes.
Then I glance down guiltily and stand up straight.
Why am I even doing this? Kennedy hates me now. He’s never going to be able to raise the money he needs with one meeting of investors. And anyway, there’s no reason for me to be there except for the fact that he wants to draw out punishing me.
And damn it, I’m going because…because I think I deserve it? Or just because I’d do anything to be close to Kennedy for even a tiny bit more time? Even when he’s being an asshole. Because if I don’t do this, then he kicks me out and then…what? That’s it? He’s gone from my life and I never see him again?
Enzo doesn’t say a word to me the whole time I get ready even though I try explaining I just need to do this one last thing.
“I’ll be back soon,” I finally say with a sigh. Enzo’s sitting on the bed, knees to his chest, staring blankly down at my tablet.
He ignores me.
I sigh again. I want to sleep for a week. Maybe a month. “We’ll talk more when I get home.”
He glances up at me for just a second. What I see breaks my heart. His eyes are full of hurt and betrayal.
I’ll make him understand when I get back. He’s so young and in spite of everything we’ve been through together, he still sees life in terms of black and white. He can’t fathom that there’s anything more to Kennedy than a monster. But I know better.
So I close the door behind me and go downstairs to meet Kennedy. He’s no more talkative than Enzo. He and I sit in uncomfortable silence as he drives us wherever it is we’re meeting these investors.
Scratch that. Uncomfortable sounds like it’s just a slightly awkward situation. But the atmosphere inside the car is arctic. Kennedy’s jaw is locked so tight it looks like he’s about to break a tooth. Then there’s his white-knuckled grip on the wheel. He’s staring straight ahead in that way people do when they’re using all their energy not to look at something. Namely, me.
I press my head back against the headrest. This was stupid. There was no point in me coming. I was an idiot to think this could ever work between us.
Even if I had told him the truth before it was too late and Francisco’s bastards had a chance to get the jump on me. Kennedy will never listen to me now or believe me that I was trying to call it off, that they were early, or that I fought back. That was hard enough to explain away to Francisco—since the deed was already done, I tried to tell Francisco I’d only fought back to make it look good for the cameras outside the building.
I didn’t know if there were actually cameras or not. When Francisco’s guys grabbed me, all I could think was no! I can’t do this to Kennedy! I would have done anything to avoid everything that followed.
In the end, Francisco bought my fighting-for-the-cameras excuse and he hadn’t minded because he wanted me roughed up for the picture to send to Kennedy. He never agreed with my initial idea that makeup would work just as well as actual bruises.
But none of it mattered. Kennedy found out everything. It’s ruined between us. And Enzo. God. He hates me, too.
How could I explain my actions when I didn’t understand them myself? That whatever happened, I owe Kennedy this last…whatever this is.
He’s hurting. Maybe that’s enough. Kennedy’s hurting, and if taking out some of his rage on me will help… God, it’s all so fucked up. Since when have I ever allowed myself to be a punching bag?
No, he doesn’t get to do that. I’ll force him to listen to my side. I screwed him over, no doubt about it. But he did the same to my family. And the things he said tonight about my father, as if he was totally blameless in the whole thing… My blood lights with anger all over again.
“We’re here. Get out.” Kennedy’s voice is icy and totally foreign. I look over at him. He’s still staring straight ahead. There seems to be nothing of the man I’ve gotten to know over the past month. He’s a stranger.
I throw my door open and step out, slamming the door behind me. And that’s when I realize where we are.
Benson’s House.
On the same ground where Bianchi’s once proudly stood.
I turn to Kennedy—he’s out of his car, having already handed off his keys to a valet. He’s walking toward me.
“You bastard,” I hiss. How dare he bring me to what used to be my family’s restaurant? The legacy my dad meant to pass down to me and Enzo?
He smiles at me, a cruel upturn of his lips.
“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He grabs my upper arm and starts dragging me beside him. It’s not a bruising grip and I could jerk away if I wanted. But I don’t.
I’ll see this through.
But I think I had it all wrong. I didn’t come for Kennedy or even to punish myself.
I came because this is what I needed to see. I have to witness first-hand what a heartless bastard Kennedy Benson really is. To prove that everything I always thought about him over the past nine years is the real him. It’s just the last month that’s been a mirage. Then I can damn him to hell where he belongs and Enzo and I can get on with our lives.
Chapter 20
KENNEDY
We enter the hostess and bar area. I force myself not to look at the woman beside me or else I’ll l
ose my cool. Even touching her makes my skin burn. She’s still as soft as ever, goddammit. It’s like her entire body was created to lure men in. To entice. She’s a lying demon cloaked in an angel’s body.
The restaurant is packed with beautiful people—at the bar, in the waiting area, and in the open space of the restaurant beyond. Usually I’d be clocking it all, calculating traffic flow and estimating revenue. Today I ignore everything. The hostess, Meghan, I think her name is, approaches and tries to get my attention. I brush right past her.
I just keep hold of Scarlet’s arm and make my way through the restaurant, shouldering people aside when they get in my way.
I head straight for the corridor toward one of the private dining rooms in the back. The others should be here any minute. The sooner the better.
I let go of the she-witch right after we get in the room and I flip on the light. She jerks away from me as soon as I drop her arm. I can feel her glare but don’t give her the satisfaction of looking her way.
No, I’m done giving this woman an inch. I think thirty million dollars was enough. Not to mention what that thirty million represented. All my future plans gone in the blink of an eye. I’m back where I was three years ago right after I bought Chandelier. Funds depleted and banking everything on the hope that each and every one of my businesses continues to turn a healthy profit. If even one of them has a couple of bad quarters, I’m sunk. There’s no cushion to fall back on or group of other investors to share the burden now.
It’s all gone.
My hand shakes as I turn away from Scarlet and head for the minibar. Even having her in my peripheral vision makes me feel dangerously off-kilter.
Fuck, why did I even bring her here tonight? I should have just kicked her and her idiot brother to the curb as soon as we got back to my apartment.
That would have been the sane thing to do.
I slam the whiskey bottle back on the small bartop and down the shot I just poured. My blood immediately lights from the alcohol and I pour another glass.
Because fuck it. I’m feeling decidedly not sane at the moment.
I look in the reflection of the mirror at Scarlet where she stands behind me. She’s so goddamned beautiful in that body-clinging red dress. Blonde hair cascading down her back. Her bright, intelligent blue eyes. Blood red lips. The perfect package.
